Schroedinger

Every place I go without you is (to use a laborious analogy) like Schrodinger’s cat. You are both there and not there, but then I know.

The subconscious expectation to see you, to hear you yell my name obnoxiously across a room, my smile is already getting ready, and then the realisation that you are gone. You are not just not here, you aren’t just not coming tonight. You are gone.

You are alive in these old places before I see them. I never want to see them all.

Why did we go to so many places and do so many things together? Nowhere is safe.

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